


Lean on Me

by LittlebutFiery



Series: The Knight and His Lady [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: A chance meeting between Havoc and Rebecca at his family's general store turns into a friendship, and then something more.





	Lean on Me

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you start kind of shipping secondary characters to further the plot of fics around main characters? And then you start shipping them really hard and unironically, and realize that they don't have enough fics focusing on them? And then it's a week later and you've written half a dozen fics about them?  
> Well, that happened to me.  
> This is likely going to be the first in a little series of Havolina drabbles and oneshots. Hope you enjoy!

Rebecca meandered down the street, idly looking around at her surroundings. She’d woken up much earlier than normal this morning, and, unable to get back to sleep, she’d decided to go for a walk in the little village near Eastern Command. She’d lived in the east long enough and never took the time to see the picturesque town so close to her office, and it was high time to do so.

Indeed, it was a cute little cluster of houses and stores, full of more life than she’d expected so early in the morning. A flower vendor had chatted with her for a while, giving her a sunflower and recommending she try a sandwich from the general store down the street.

Rebecca found the general store with some difficulty, as the sign was in the process of being repainted and currently just read “STORE.” It was clearly the oldest building on the block, well loved and maintained over the years.

She headed inside, a little bell over the door announcing her entrance with a small chime. From the back of the store, a muffled voice called, “Be right there!”

Rebecca looked around as she waited for the shopkeeper to finish whatever he was doing. She could see why the store had been so long-lived – the shelves were full of high-quality goods, with a small section even boasting goods from Xing. She examined the shelf of chocolates for a while, finding Riza’s favorite, exceedingly rare hazelnut chocolate bar and grabbing a few to mail to her friend.

Finally the clerk’s voice grew louder as he headed out into the store, saying, “Sorry about that – I was finishing putting away a delivery. I wasn’t expecting anybody so early in the morning!”

Rebecca turned to assure him that it was fine, that she was just looking around, when her brown eyes met a familiar pair of blue ones. She nearly dropped the chocolate bars as she asked, “Lieutenant Havoc?”

He looked just as surprised to see her. “Lieutenant Catalina. What brings you to our humble store?”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Rebecca shook her head, confused. “What are you doing in the east, Lieutenant? I know Mustang got transferred to Central months ago. And why the hell are you pretending to be a shopkeeper?”

She belatedly realized another piece of information and asked, “And why are you in a wheelchair?”

Havoc chuckled, lighting a cigarette. “What the hell kind of interrogation techniques are they teaching now? You need to give me time to answer.”

Rebecca scowled. “I can make this an interrogation if you want, Lieutenant.”

He waved her off, a strange expression on his face. “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what?” Rebecca asked.

“Lieutenant. It’s just plain old Havoc now. Jean, even, since you’re cute,” he replied, winking.

“What happened?” Rebecca demanded again.

Havoc suddenly wouldn’t meet her eye. “I…got hurt. I’m no good to anyone like this, so they discharged me and home I came.”

“When will you recover?” Rebecca asked, feeling a pang of sadness. She’d never really associated with Havoc – all she really knew about him was from Riza’s calls and letters – but he looked miserable, looked like he desperately wanted to get back into the action.

There was a long, painful silence, Rebecca fearing he wouldn’t answer, before he admitted, “I…I won’t. This is a done deal.”

It took a moment for the words to settle in Rebecca’s brain. He was…paralyzed? It was hard to reconcile what she knew of Havoc with the paraplegic man before her. This was the man who’d gotten Riza to dance, _really_ dance, at a military ball, drawing all the eyes in the room as she laughed and twirled – Riza Hawkeye, who would sooner die than stand in the spotlight!

Rebecca felt faintly sick. Her friends had always told her she had a bleeding heart and a soft spot for broken things, and apparently that included people, too. She managed, “I…I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t mean…”

He waved her off, still looking dejected. “Look, I don’t need any pity. Everybody else has been treating me like I’m fucking glass. I don’t need any more of it.”

She nodded, not sure what else to say. Havoc went on, “To answer your question, I’m not pretending to be anything. This store’s been in my family for almost a century. I help out as much as I can.”

“Looks like it’s in good hands, then,” Rebecca replied.

This drew a crooked grin from Havoc. “Yeah, I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my hands.”

He winked at her again, but it looked halfhearted, almost fake. Rebecca decided not to comment, instead changing the topic and saying, “So, I’ve heard this is the place to go to get a decent lunch around here.”

This time, the smile was genuine. “Damn right. Best deli for miles around. I’m partial to the chicken salad, but I’ve never heard a bad word about our food.”

Rebecca checked her watch, realized she was going to be late to work, and said anyway, “Well, you’re the expert, so I’ll take your advice. Let me get a chicken salad sandwich. Oh, and these chocolate bars, for Riza.”

Havoc nodded, taking the candy and saying, “Be right back,” before wheeling himself off to the back of the store again.

He returned a few minutes later, handing a small canvas lunchbox to Rebecca. She started to pull her wallet from her pocket but he waved her off. “The chocolate’s for Riza, and you’re her friend. It’s on the house this time.”

“Thanks, Jean,” Rebecca smiled.

“Come by anytime,” Havoc smiled back. “You know where to find me – I’m not likely to wander off.”

Rebecca pondered the fortuitous meeting as she walked back to her car to head to work. She felt melancholy, sad even, for Havoc. Riza had always described him as a good friend – an incorrigible flirt, a reckless gambler, and an impressive drinker, but a good friend and loyal soldier. He’d made plenty of jokes at Riza’s expense about her relationship with Mustang with friendly intentions, but when someone else had done the same with distinctly _unfriendly_ intentions, he’d beat the shit out of the guy until Riza got an apology, and nearly gotten himself court-martialed for it.

He didn’t deserve this. Rebecca sighed. Bad things always seemed to happen to good people.

She finally got to the office, forgetting about the lunch she’d bought for hours until her stomach growled and General Grumman told her to take a break.

Rebecca took her newly-acquired lunchbox to the breakroom, sitting down heavily and sighing. She hated paperwork, and it seemed like that was all she was doing these days. There had to be a good reason – Grumman didn’t do _anything_ without a reason – but the wily old fox rarely explained his reasoning.

She opened the lunchbox and blinked in surprise.

All she’d asked for was a sandwich and Riza’s chocolate, and those were indeed tucked neatly inside. But Havoc had also packed her a bag of chips, an apple, a bottle of cream soda, and a cookie.

Damn him, he was being insufferably nice, and he hadn’t even let her pay for it.

It took her a moment to realize there was a scrap of paper tucked into the lunchbox. She pulled it out, examining it as she bit into the apple.

Holy shit, that was the most delicious apple she’d ever tasted. Where the hell did he get it from? She’d have to stop by again and ask.

The note was folded neatly, with tall, narrow scrawl on one side. It was surprisingly tidy writing, considering it belonged to a man whose entire reputation lay on the assumption he just could not give a shit about anything.

It read simply, “ _Catalina, Thanks for dropping by. Good to see a familiar face – it’s been a while. The guys can’t exactly swing by for a chat, you know? Heymans hasn’t even had time to call in weeks, and that’s saying something. You don’t need to worry about me, or anything, but if you ever need anything, stop on by. If I’m in a really good mood, maybe we can even bust out the beer my dad keeps hidden for the regulars. Keep on fighting the good fight. Somebody’s gotta do it._ ”

The note was signed with his name and a surprisingly artful doodle of himself and Rebecca holding beer steins. Below that, he’d written his home phone number, with the warning that his little sister Amelie tended to answer before he could, interrogating any female callers as to what they wanted with her brother.

Rebecca laughed. He seemed to be handling his injury and loneliness as best as he could, but she made a mental note to stop by the shop as often as she could afford.

As for the note, it went in her little cubicle, tucked next to Riza’s most recent letter.

 

For the next few months, her visits to the general store were sporadic, only happening on days she woke early. Usually, Havoc was the only one in the store that early – he claimed to be a naturally early riser from his days in the military – but once in a while another Havoc would be hanging around, tidying shelves or moving boxes.

His mother Genevieve was a lovely woman who doted on her son, fretting over him constantly. It was obvious she tried not to treat him like he was broken, but Rebecca heard Havoc’s exasperated “Mom, I’m _fine_ ,” more times than she could count. Genevieve also seemed to struggle to remember Rebecca’s name – whenever she saw Rebecca walk in, she’d call, “Jean, dear, your lady friend is here!”

Havoc would always be faintly pink when talking to Rebecca after that.

Rebecca had only met Bastien, the family patriarch, once, when Havoc had been unable to move a box bigger than his wheelchair. He was a quiet man, terse but not rude – his son had clearly inherited his charisma and crooked smile.

Amelie was…something else. She was even more flamboyant than her big brother, dancing around the store with boisterous laughs and crude humor, enough to make even Havoc blush. It was obvious that the family’s protective streak ran through her as well – she tried to do practically everything for Havoc and was exceedingly rude to Rebecca until she realized that the older woman had no ill intentions.

It was nice, Rebecca mused at work once day, to feel connected to such a close-knit family. Growing up, it had been just her and her mother, who was nearly constantly at work. It gave her a sense of home, even so far from where she’d grown up, to be able to join Amelie in teasing Havoc.

But as much as she loved the family, and the food, she went to see Jean.

He seemed to be adjusting well enough to his new situation in life, but he had off days. They were rare, but the first one had scared her half to death. She’d walked into the store on a rainy Monday, craving a cookie – Jean teased her for her sweet tooth, but always made sure to pack at least one cookie in her lunch – and at first, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary.

After almost fifteen minutes, though, she realized she hadn’t heard his typical greeting from the storeroom. Concerned, she went looking, ducking behind the counter and calling, “Jean? You back here?”

A muffled sound indicated that he indeed was, concerning her more.

It took her a few minutes, but she found him in a pantry full of dry goods, on the floor, buried under the contents of a broken shelf.

Rebecca pushed the mess off of him, demanding, “What happened? Are you okay?”

He struggled into a sitting position with her help, rubbing a welt on his head. “Yeah…I’m fine. Thanks for the help.”

She frowned. His eyes were glassy and distant, his shoulders heavily slumped as he sat and stared at the wall. No…not the wall – his eyes were focused on something only he could see. Even from her light touch on his shoulders, Rebecca could tell his pulse was racing.

“Look, I’m not going to make you talk,” Rebecca said gently. “But are you sure you’re okay?”

He was silent for a long, long time. Just when Rebecca thought he was ignoring her, he managed weakly, “I…hate rainy days.”

“What?” she asked, puzzled by the odd statement.

“The rain. It scares me,” Jean admitted. When he finally looked at her, his blue eyes were shiny with tears. “When…when I got hurt. The Colonel and I were fighting a Homunculus. She…turned on the sprinkler system so he couldn’t use his alchemy. We thought we managed to kill her anyway, but when I turned around…”

He gestured at his unfeeling legs. “The rain makes me think of the sprinklers, and that makes me think of her.”

Rebecca didn’t know what to do or say besides sitting down beside him and hugging him tightly. He went on, voice cracking, “I…forgot I was paralyzed. Don’t know how…but I did. I tried to stand up to get something off a higher shelf…and I fell. I grabbed the shelf to stop my fall, but it broke.”

“What did you need?” Rebecca asked. With a grunt of effort, she lifted Jean back into his wheelchair. “I can get it for you.”

“I’ll just have Amelie get it when she wakes up,” Jean waved her off. He offered a weak grin, a shadow of its usual self. “You don’t work here. If you start getting stuff for me, we’re gonna have to pay you.”

“Jean,” Rebecca sighed. “You’re my friend. Friends help each other.”

He sighed as well before admitting, “Butterscotch chips.”

Rebecca found the necessary ingredient on a high shelf, handing it to Jean and pushing him back into the store. Curiosity struck her and she asked, “Why did you need those? I don’t think I’ve seen much in the store that uses them.”

“Yeah, we don’t use them very often,” Jean nodded. He hesitated and admitted, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “Riza told me you like butterscotch cookies, so I wanted to make you some in case you came in today.”

Rebecca couldn’t help but smile as a blush rose in her cheeks. “You don’t have to do stuff like that for me.”

“You didn’t have to help me, either, but here we are,” Jean replied. “Thanks, Becca. I don’t think Mom would’ve let me out of her sight for a week if she’d found me like that.”

Rebecca’s flush only heightened. “It really wasn’t a problem.”

Jean turned to look at her, clearly noticing the strain in her voice. He frowned, worried. “What’s wrong? You’re bright red.”

“You called me Becca,” Rebecca replied dumbly. When Jean looked confused, she explained, “You always call me Catalina.”

“Hmm,” Jean hummed. “Well, I think Becca suits you better. Is that okay?”

Rebecca smiled. Becca was more than fine with her – it eliminated an odd kind of barrier Jean had drawn between them, finally placing them on equal footing. “Yeah. That works.”

Jean smiled back, and she could see how he’d gotten so many women to swoon over him. “I’ll get your lunch started, Becca. The usual?”

She laughed. “Sounds good. Hey, have you guys gotten any more of that Xingese perfume in? I’ve got a date tonight, and Annie in the front office said her husband loves it!”

A strange expression flickered across Jean’s face for the briefest of seconds before he shook his head. “Nah, sorry. That stuff’s in high demand, but the merchants don’t come over the desert that often.”

Rebecca pouted, frustrated, as Jean vanished to the storeroom to make her lunch. She could have sworn she’d heard him telling someone they’d have some in by now. Apparently she was mistaken.

And what was that weird look he’d had upon hearing she had a date? It wasn’t like it was anything serious – Marcus, the communications officer, had teasingly won the date in a bet. She’d told him she’d go to dinner with him if he could outdrink her at the bar, and he’d won. In her defense, she wasn’t feeling well to begin with, and he’d only won by half a shot, but he had won fair and square, so out to dinner they went. Neither of them meant anything by it.

Jean returned quickly, handing her her lunchbox back. “I put a little extra in there to make up for the perfume. Sorry.”

She smiled. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “I know. Hey, call me when you get home tonight, okay?”

“What? Why?” Rebecca asked.

Jean’s nervous tic came back, his eyes avoiding hers as he scratched the back of his neck. “Just so I know you got home okay. I know we’re pretty safe out here in the boondocks, but I still worry about you.”

Rebecca nodded, suddenly unable to form words. He…worried about her? That was surprisingly sweet of him.

She came back to reality to hear him say, “…I can barely sleep on rainy nights as it is, but if I know you made it back all right, I might be able to.”

Her cheeks turned scarlet as she squeaked a “thank you” and handed him some bills, practically running from the store.

Rebecca’s date wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, although it was close, but the rain hadn’t let up, leaving her soaked and tired when she finally arrived home.

She was in her pajamas, about to fall asleep, when she remembered her promise to call Jean. Part of her wanted to just sleep anyway, to apologize to him in the morning, to make an excuse that she didn’t want to wake his family with a ringing phone at quarter to midnight.

Guilt immediately sunk in, though, and she picked up the receiver and dialed. It only rang once before a tired voice asked, “Hello?”

“Jean?” Rebecca said. “It’s Becca.”

“Good. I was just starting to get worried,” Jean replied, relief clear in his voice. Alcohol was also clear in his voice – his words were slightly slurred together. “How was dinner?”

“He was…all right, I guess,” Rebecca admitted. “But he got drunk and hit on the waitress, and then didn’t call me a cab.”

There was such a long silence on the line that Rebecca thought Jean had hung up before she heard him mutter under his breath, “Asshole.”

“Look, don’t worry about it,” Rebecca said quickly, regretting bringing it up. “I just wanted to give you a quick call so you didn’t worry. It sounds like you need some sleep.”

“Can’t sleep,” Jean replied. “I tried already. Like I said…rain makes me jumpy. Sounds like you need some rest too, though. G’night, Becca.”

Rebecca frowned. “I’m not just going to leave you to stay up all night by yourself.”

Jean’s laugh was sad. “I’ve done it plenty of times. It wouldn’t be anything new.”

“I’ll stay up with you,” Rebecca replied fiercely, her heart breaking at the defeatedness in Jean’s voice.

“Becca, you have work tomorrow,” Jean protested. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You worried about me!” Rebecca argued. When Jean started to interrupt, she went on angrily, “Don’t cut me off, Jean Havoc! Especially not with any bullshit about not being worth it. You’re my best friend here. So shut up and let me help.”

Jean laughed again, a more joyful sound now. “Okay, okay. You win. What do you want to talk about?”

When Rebecca went into work the next morning, ragged and exhausted, her friends had teased her and assumed she was up all night with Marcus.

She didn’t feel like telling them that instead, she’d spent nearly the whole night on the phone with Jean. They had talked for hours about this and that, and when the storm worsened, rain falling hard, she’d tried to soothe his panicked tears as best she could. It was almost six in the morning when Jean’s responses slowed before ending altogether as a faint snore became audible through the phone.

Rebecca had hung up and gotten ready for work, hoping that his family would let him sleep. He needed a little bit of peace in his life.

 

After that day, her visits became regular. First it was every Monday, then Mondays and Wednesdays, and then every other day, until she found herself waking early every morning to head to the store and see Jean’s cheeky smile.

It wasn’t even about the excellent lunches anymore, not remotely. She had enough stock of Riza’s candy to last another six months, too. Thank god the Havocs liked her, because she certainly couldn’t afford to pay for her lunches every day.

No, now it was all about Jean. He’d become an integral part of her day, and her cubicle was practically wallpapered in his notes. She knew his handwriting better than her own, and more nights than not they talked on the phone until one or the other of them fell asleep.

On her way to see him one morning, the flower vendor stopped her, holding out a beautiful red flower. Rebecca, surprised, accepted it and asked, “What’s this?”

“This is maiden’s breath,” the woman replied with a knowing smile. “A lady who receives this will have good luck in love.”

Rebecca nearly dropped the flower as though it was on fire, making the woman laugh. She whispered conspiratorially, “That Havoc boy has always been a wild child. It’ll take a very special woman, and some good luck, to rein him in.”

Her cheeks on fire, Rebecca mumbled, “I…don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re friends.”

“It also takes a very special woman to have such discipline in her life,” the woman winked.

Rebecca squeaked a response and bolted into the general store. Amelie eyed the flower curiously, but said nothing, while Jean greeted, “Becca! Aww, you brought me a flower. How sweet.”

She let him take it from her hands, desperate to get the damned thing out of her sight. Jean held it a moment, contemplating it, before laughing and saying, “Nah, red’s not my color.”

He leaned up as much as he could, reaching to tuck the flower behind Rebecca’s ear. “There we go.”

Rebecca blushed again, not quite sure what to say. Amelie, mercifully, scowled at her brother to go make Rebecca’s lunch, and he obeyed.

Amelie smiled once he was gone. “You know about maiden’s breath, yeah?”

“I just learned this morning,” Rebecca sighed.

“I think Jean would just about shit himself if he knew what it meant,” Amelie mused with a wicked grin.

“Why?” Rebecca asked. “It just means I’ll have good luck in love.”

Amelie snorted. “That flower lady loves to leave things out. It means good luck in love, yeah. But if a man gives it to a woman…that means he’s hopelessly in love with her.”

Jean chose that moment to return, Rebecca’s lunchbox in his lap. He took in Amelie’s knowing smirk and Rebecca’s ghost-white face curiously, demanding, “Amie, what did you say?”

“Oh, nothing,” Amelie replied innocently. “Just telling secrets about you.”

Jean rolled his eyes as he handed Rebecca her lunch. “Have a good one, Becca. Don’t work too hard, ‘k?”

She nodded mutely. Amelie loudly cleared her throat, saying, “I think you’re forgetting to ask her something, Jean.”

He rubbed his face, embarrassed. Rebecca managed, “Is everything all right?”

“My cousin Natalie is getting married this weekend in North City. I can’t really travel, so I’m staying here,” Jean said. He cast an annoyed glance at his sister as he went on crossly, “But _someone_ seems to think I can’t take care of myself alone for a weekend.”

“Yeah. Three someones, in fact, named Genevieve, Bastien, and Amelie,” Amelie scowled.

“So…?” Rebecca prompted.

“…so, er…” Jean stammered.

Amelie rolled her eyes and finished, “…so we were hoping you could stay in the house with him and make sure he doesn’t die.”

Rebecca felt her face turning red, but she replied, “Of course. It’s no trouble.”

“Excellent!” Amelie grinned. “We leave tomorrow night.”

 

The next night came much more quickly than Rebecca expected. She stood at the Havocs’ door, a rucksack in her hand, her heart pounding. She hadn’t really packed much, just her toothbrush, pajamas, and some actual clothes, and now she was afraid she had forgotten something.

Genevieve answered the door, sweeping Rebecca into a hug as she lead her inside. “Oh, our dear Rebecca! Thank you so much for agreeing to stay with Jean. He’s too proud to admit it, but I think he’s relieved you’ll be here, too.”

Rebecca nodded, following her into the living room where Jean sat, finishing some kind of card game with his father, while Amelie read a book. Genevieve scolded, “Bastien, Amelie, come on. We must be going, or we’ll miss our train.”

Rebecca and Jean waved goodbye to his parents and sister before awkwardly turning back to each other. He was blushing furiously as he managed, “Look, Becca, you can go home. I won’t tell them. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Her thoughts turned back to the day she found him collapsed in the storage room and her throat grew uncomfortably tight. “I know you don’t, but I think we’ll both feel better if you’re not alone.”

Jean simply nodded, unwilling to meet her eyes. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Yes,” Rebecca nodded.

“Oh. Um, okay,” Jean replied, awkward.

They remained that way a while before Rebecca asked desperately, “Want to play rummy?”

Jean’s relieved sigh broke the awkward tension. “God, yes.”

They played card games for hours, until Jean’s eyelids drooped heavily. Rebecca laughed and teased, “C’mon, sleepyhead. Let’s get you to bed.”

“…hrgh…don’t wanna,” Jean mumbled, forcing himself back awake.

“I’ll be here in the morning,” Rebecca said. “I can finish kicking your ass at spades then.”

Jean continued to mumble half-coherent protests as Rebecca wheeled him to his room and helped him change into his pajamas. It was only after Rebecca helped him shift from his wheelchair to sitting on the edge of his bed that he seemed to wake. Something was clearly bothering him.

Rebecca frowned. “What’s wrong, Jean?”

“I don’t want you to go,” Jean replied petulantly.

Rebecca’s brow scrunched in confusion. “I’m not. I’m staying here the whole weekend, remember? I’ll be just down the hall. Give me a yell if you need anything, okay?”

“I mean tonight,” Jean’s voice was more insistent. “I don’t want to miss a second with you.”

She blushed furiously, her heart skipping a beat. “Jean, I don’t know what you mean.”

He looked up at her, an odd expression in his eyes. Damn, those big baby blues did _something_ to her, making her heart race even more. Jean took her hands in his, gently pulling her a few steps closer, so he could link his arms behind her.

She put her hands on his shoulders, smiling down at him. She was about to prompt him to answer her question when something in his face drew her in until she was leaning down, her nose nearly touching his.

The space between them was tiny but felt so insurmountable, unconquerable, before Jean leaned up just enough to bring their lips together.

The contact sent shivers down her spine. It was a soft, chaste kiss – the very antithesis of everything she’d been told about Jean – and yet it was everything she’d ever wanted.

He pulled away, a question clear in his eyes, before Rebecca tangled a hand in his sandy hair and kissed him again, more insistent, more needy, as her lips moved against his.

She felt Jean smile against her lips, the only warning he was about to do something, before he grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him. Rebecca yelped as she fell into his lap, straddling his unfeeling legs.

“You’re incorrigible,” Rebecca grumbled, no real force behind her words.

“Can you blame a guy?” Jean grinned, running a hand up her side. “I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world in my room, of course I’m going to get a little frisky. Or, well…as close to it as I can manage these days.”

His confidence waned as he finished speaking, so Rebecca tipped his chin up so he’d meet her eyes. She murmured, “I like you just the way you are, Jean. Don’t worry about that.”

Jean wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her into his chest, his chin on her shoulder. “Stay with me tonight.”

Rebecca laughed into his shoulder. “We already talked about this! I _am_! I’ll be just down the hall!”

“I mean here,” Jean insisted. “With me.”

It took her longer than she cared to admit to realize what he meant. “Oh.”

“I-if that’s okay,” Jean stammered quickly. “I don’t want to push anything…”

Rebecca disentangled herself from him, pulling the covers aside so she could crawl into his bed. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

The next two days were perfect. They slept in, cuddling for hours in his bed, until their rumbling stomachs forced Rebecca to get up to make breakfast. They’d eaten that in bed, too, dozing lazily while his radio played faint music in the background.

Jean showered her with kisses as often as he could, lavishing attention on her shoulder, her neck, the soft spot behind her ear, her cheeks, her nose, her lips. While half-asleep on Saturday night, he confessed he’d daydreamed of doing this for months.

Rebecca cursed herself for not seeing it sooner. How many weeks of this had they missed out on?

They decided that night that this meant something, something more than the flings of his past or the ill-fated relationships of hers.

No, this was something to be treasured.

The next morning, Jean had shyly, bashful as a schoolboy, asked Rebecca if he could refer to her as his girlfriend. She’d giggled and consented, with the condition he keep baking her the butterscotch cookies she loved. That had gotten a hell of a laugh out of him, along with a fervent promise to make them as often as she wanted.

The couple was still together when his family returned home from their trip. Amelie had called for them, worried, until she found them asleep in his bed, his arms locked tightly around her. The girl had just laughed and told her parents that they should expect to see a lot more of Rebecca in the near future.

 

Rebecca paced outside of Jean’s room, heart in her throat as she walked back and forth. For their parts, Genevieve and Bastien seemed to have their worry a little better in check, while Amelie gnawed at her nails. Finally the girl whined, “What’s taking so long? Do you think everything’s okay?”

“I’m sure everything’s fine, love,” Genevieve soothed her. “Doctor Marcoh said he wasn’t entirely certain how this would work, or how long it would take.”

It had been a few weeks since the Promised Day, and slowly life was returning to normal. Rebecca had been overwhelmed at work, preparing countless papers for upcoming soldiers’ transfers. With General Grumman taking the position of Fuhrer, Rebecca knew her own transfer to Central was imminent.

But she’d been granted today off, if only because Mustang had bullied Grumman into it. Rebecca had never been the biggest fan of the cocky Flame Alchemist – the bastard needed to hurry up and marry Riza – but she could’ve kissed him on the spot.

Not just for getting her today off. For giving her a _reason_ to take today off.

She almost didn’t believe it when he sent her back east with Doctor Marcoh, to guard the Philosopher’s Stone he held. She’d cried when he told her that hopefully, this cursed stone could do some good, could fix Jean’s broken body and let him walk again.

Jean and Mustang had had a hell of a fight over the telephone over which injury should be addressed first – Jean’s paralysis or Mustang’s blindness. A veritable dictionary of colorful words had been exchanged, Rebecca and Riza trying to argue sense into the men, before Jean had finally caved.

And now, here they were, waiting with bated breath to see if this would even work. Though she knew her focus should be on Jean, Rebecca couldn’t help but say a silent prayer for Mustang, too, that the stone would have enough power left to fix him when this was all said and done. Part of her would feel guilty forever if it didn’t.

A muffled yell came through the door, alarming the anxious group. The following silence nearly killed Rebecca before a loud thump could be heard.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Rebecca grabbed the doorknob, throwing open the door, desperate to know Jean was okay.

The sight immediately brought her to tears.

Jean was standing.

She didn’t care that he was sagging under his own weight, leaning heavily on the doctor for support. She barely heard the words Doctor Marcoh said, warning them all that Jean would need months of physical rehabilitation before he’d be back to his old self.

Jean was _standing_.

Rebecca could see his eyes shining despite the exertion, could already see the confident swagger returning to his posture. Holy hell, she’d never seen anything better.

He turned to look at her and his smile only broadened. She couldn’t even hear what he was saying, probably a wisecracking joke, as overwhelmed as she was.

Despite Doctor Marcoh’s warning she ran to Jean, practically tackling him with the force of her embrace, sending them both crashing to his bed. Jean laughed. “Becca, be careful. I just got these bad boys back, let’s not ruin them again.”

Out in the hall, Genevieve asked a question of the doctor, who went out to talk to the Havocs, shutting the door behind him.

Rebecca kissed Jean roughly as she straddled him, hoping that she could convey her joy in a way that words could not. Jean kissed her back, his grip on her hips intoxicating, before he rolled his hips against her.

The noise that Rebecca made caused her to blush and pray that his parents hadn’t heard it. She hissed despite herself, “ _Jean!_ ”

He laughed, unabashed. “God, I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Your family’s going to hear!” Rebecca protested as Jean fumbled with her blouse’s buttons.

“I don’t give a fuck if they hear us in Drachma, Bec,” Jean scowled. “You have been everything I’ve wanted and needed through all of this. I want to make that up to you.”

When Rebecca didn’t seem convinced, he stopped, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fair enough. I’m not gonna force the issue. That’s not right.”

She looked down, though, saw his crooked smile and bright blue eyes and the love in his expression, and realized she didn’t want to wait another second either.

So Rebecca leaned down and purred in his ear, “Well…maybe we should put you through your paces. Y’know, while the doctor’s still here. To make sure everything worked out okay.”

“For science,” Jean agreed solemnly.

Rebecca laughed as he pressed a kiss to her throat. “We’re a mess.”

“But we’re _our_ mess,” Jean replied.

Rebecca smiled. He was right – they weren’t the picture-perfect couple of Riza and Mustang, nor the star-crossed lovers that had been Hughes and Gracia. No, they were unabashedly themselves.

They might not always know what was going on, or how to make it work, but if Rebecca knew one thing, it was that they would figure it out.

Together.


End file.
